


Does Jumin Han is Master?

by HopelessHeartless



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Choi Luciel's Real Name, 707 | Choi Luciel's Route, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bisexual Han Jumin, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom 707 | Choi Luciel, Boys Kissing, Collars, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Does Jumin Han Is Gay?, Dom/sub, Dominant 707 | Choi Luciel, Dominant Zen | Ryu Hyun, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, Gay Sex, Han Jumin's Route, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Choking, Jealous Zen | Ryu Hyun, Kinky Han Jumin, Lesbian Kang Jaehee (Mystic Messenger), Light Bondage, M/M, Masochist Yoosung, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Office Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Han Jumin, Rare Pairings, Religion Kink, Romance, Rough Sex, S&M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex, Smut, Some Humor, Submissive Kim Yoosung, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Han Jumin, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelessHeartless/pseuds/HopelessHeartless
Summary: Seven, MC and Jumin have been playing with fire. What will happen when it finally catches?





	1. A Lesson in Ramen Safety

The question of "does Jumin Han is gay" was settled the night Seven made a startling admission in the RFA chat. They'd been discussing certain stereotypes regarding a man's "size" when it happened.

"I'll tell you what," Seven said, "Jumin makes a man's jaw hurt. I guess not all rich men are compensating for something, eh?"

Zen was there when it was said, but not even his usual shock emoji could have expressed the mix of surprise and unexpected jealousy he felt. Yoosung instantly assumed it to be a joke.

"Ha ha, Seven. You have a gross sense of humor, you know that?"

"Oh, dear Yoosung, you think I'm joking? You want me to tell you how you compare, is that it? Bring that sausage to Daddy 707!"

Jaehee entered the chatroom, only to immediately leave. Frankly, dicks were not on her list of interests. MC, whom Seven had now been seeing for several months, was suspiciously quiet.

"Hang on, what about you, MC?" Asked Zen. "You'd never have just let your boyfriend screw around with some guy, much less the trust fund kid, right?"

MC simply sent a small devil emoji, followed by several eggplants. Yoosung spilled Red Bull on his keyboard.

"You see?" Seven gloated. "It's all true."

Then, as he often did at eerie times, Jumin appeared. It took great effort for the other members not to scream in their respective seats.

"Good evening, everyone. I presume you've all eaten by now?"

"Oh yeah," said Seven. "I'm full on memories of that delicious meal you fed me last week, Jumin."

"Excuse me?" Jumin asked, somewhat discomforted. He shifted in his chair. Seven _wouldn't_...

"Oh, you remember, Mr. Han. You said 'you're a skilled hacker, you can get into anything,' and I said 'what about your pants, Jumin? Let me show you how skilled I really am!'"

Apparently, Seven _would_.

The others in the chat were now terrifyingly silent, as though Seven and Jumin were the only players on the stage. 

"Luciel, I suggest you leave your strange stories to your fanfiction hobby and not bore us with them here," Jumin said, decisively.

"Oh-ho!" Laughed Seven. Jumin hated it when he "oh-ho-ed" like that. Everyone knew that an "oh-ho" from Seven meant trouble. Sometimes legal trouble.

At this point, MC legitimately considered making popcorn. Instead, she sent a popcorn emoji.

"Oh, sweet, long, hard, almost _tangy_ Jumin..."

_Tangy?_ Zen wondered how often (or how rarely) Jumin must bathe for Seven to describe him as tangy. Then he realized he was thinking about the flavor of that jerk's dick and literally slapped himself.

"... You're just afraid to tell everyone that you _does_ is gay."

"All right, Seven, that's enough," Yoosung interrupted, a series of angry emojis clearing the screen. "You've had your fun at Jumin's expense. Give the guy a break! You're too harsh sometimes."

"But he's right," Jumin said suddenly. Seven and MC, who had been sitting right beside one another for the entire chat, exchanged looks of sheer confusion. "I does--that is--I _am_ gay. Well, bisexual, actually."

The world seemed to twist and shift on its axis for all involved. Zen became physically dizzy and had to sink from his chair to the floor to steady his head. Yoosung choked on a ramen noodle for almost a full minute, wondering after about 30 seconds if this was how he would die, choking on a single thin noodle, the image of Seven blowing Jumin burned into his mind. MC and Seven speechlessly grasped at each other's shoulders for balance.

Jumin felt like he was going to cry. Not because he was embarrassed or ashamed, but because there was a strange sensation of lightness, of lifting a long-shouldered burden that he hadn't realized was so heavy. He was bisexual, and he'd told his closest friends--his family, really. Jumin being Jumin, however, his emotions quickly settled and turned to resolute acceptance.

"Well. That's it. Now while I am glad you all know it, I'd appreciate if we could at least refrain from discussing my private intimate rendezvous in the chat." 

"Mm, so you do admit that it happened, then," said a now widely grinning Seven. "Thank you for your honesty, sir."

_Damn it_. Jumin hadn't realized that his coming out was also something of an admission to his encounter with Seven. Now that it was out, though, he decided to refocus the attack. 

"You're welcome, Luciel," he said. "But if honesty is the policy, perhaps it's time the other member of our triad should come forward."  

Yoosung screeched like a pterodactyl with a kidney stone. _Not MC_ , he begged no one in particular. _Please, not my sweet MC_!

"Yo," MC said, unceremoniously.

"I thought we weren't discussing your private intimate rendezvous in chat, Jumin. It seems like you're rather trying to expand upon them," said Seven in his most pompous tone.

"As usual, you are insightful," Jumin replied. "Let's talk about this another time."

"In person, you mean?"

"Yes, not in the chat."

"With or without lube this time?"

"Luciel."

"Yes, Master. Sorry."

"Jesus Christ!" Said Yoosung.

"Language!" Said MC.

Zen would not return to his computer screen for another 20 minutes, but when he did he would be right back on the floor, holding himself.


	2. Mr. Han Never Gets to Give His Speech

Jumin straightened his tie, his pocket square, then everything else on his desk. It was all already straight, of course, but ever since he'd come out as _not_ so, things had seemed a little less angular and perfectly aligned. He wasn't used to it.

Seven pounded at the office door.

"Hellooo," came a muffled crooning. "I'm here for my dick appointment!"

Jaehee burst through the door with Seven pinned under her arm, a hand muffling his big mouth. When the door shut behind them, she yelped and pulled away, disgustedly flailing her palm.

"He licked me!" She exclaimed. Seven waggled his brows as he adjusted his hoodie.

"More where that came from, sweet Jaehee."

"Ugh" was all she said before she stormed out. Seven gestured toward the door with his thumb.

"Boy, she's gay as hell, isn't she?"

"Luciel," Jumin said in a low and imposing tone. "Please sit." Seven smiled crookedly, just barely revealing a few teeth.

"I am at your service, Mr. CEO," he said, and dropped himself down into the plush luxury office chair on the far side of Jumin's desk. He spread his hands out across its mahogany surface and whistled. "I never tire of how swanky your office is, Juju."

Jumin _thwack_ -ed Seven's hands smartly with a rolled up financial magazine. His own gaze peered out sternly from its cover. Seven rubbed at his knuckles fiercely.

"Shit, okay, I get it! Don't touch Daddy's stuff."

"Luciel," Jumin bellowed. Seven's face fell into grave sincerity.

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry, Jumin. I was just--you know. I'm a dumbass." Seven sighed, which Jumin took as a sign of genuine concern. Perhaps it would be okay to lighten the mood a bit.

Jumin reached out and patted Seven's fluffy red hair.

"That's all right, Luciel. Daddy's not angry."

The return of a smile to Seven's face made Jumin's heart flip. _God, what was he going to say again?_ Seven spoke before he could remember.

"Before you say anything, I really do want to apologize for being so flippant about this in chat the other day. I've had my share of secrets, but for some reason I've always been fairly comfortable with my fluid sexuality. I forget sometimes that not everyone feels the same way. I'm truly sorry I outed you, Jumin. I mean that."

Jumin was touched. Seven's eyes were clear and focused, not wild and darting like they usually were. They were golden and streaked with delicate lines of pale yellow, like untapped honey in the comb.

"I appreciate that, Luciel," Jumin said, softening. "Despite your silliness, you have always been an earnest and trustworthy companion."

Seven blushed and flipped up his hood, yanking the strings to conceal his face behind the cinched fabric. He squealed like a teen girl, kicking his legs and chanting "he's so nice! So nice!" Jumin rolled his eyes.

"So," he said, slowly pulling open a desk drawer, "I got you a little something as a show of appreciation."

Seven stopped flailing and pried the hood open with his fingers. Behind the fabric, his face was contorted 

"Wait, so I share intimate details about your genitals in chat, you're forced to come out as bisexual to everyone in the RFA, and then you get me a present?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Damn. Rich guys really are strange."

Jumin slid a stack of documents aside and placed a medium-sized white box in their place.

"Here," he said. Seven hesitated, looked up to him for validation. "Really," Jumin assured him. "Open it."

Seven slid the lid from the box, revealing two beautiful suede leather collars placed side by side in the cushioned interior. He gasped. Each bore a shiny silver medallion with a letter engraved on its face; one "L," one "M."

"Jumin..." he breathed.

A practiced businessman, Jumin had prepared a long and persuasive speech about the gift, explaining the purpose of the collars and why they would be beneficial for all parties. He found this speech unnecessary, however, when Seven excitedly began strapping the "L" collar around his neck.

"My god, Jumin, its--I mean--wow. How did you know this would fit? And MC's, it's--well, it looks perfect!" Jumin did not know how to explain that he'd already estimated each of their neck sizes while indulging himself in light choking fantasies, so he simply shrugged mysteriously.

"Lucky guess, I suppose."

Seven stood up and twirled like a starlet in a new dress.

"How do I look?" He asked, striking a dramatic pose. Jumin couldn't help but enjoy his enthusiasm.

"Ravishing, my dear boy." Seven blushed.

"Thank you... um... What do I call you?"

"Jumin is fine. Or Sir, should you wish it. Of course, the latter will be expected during certain... activities."

The way Jumin said "activities" drove a sword down through Seven's body. His pulse quickened as he realized the full gravity of this new accessory. By placing it around his neck, Seven had accepted Jumin's ownership. Unless given express permission, he would no longer be the one teasing Jumin into a late night threesome at his apartment. Instead, his master would tell him when to come--in more ways than one.

"I understand, Sir," he purred.

"Good. Now, do you want to show me how well you understand? **  
**

Seven nodded, nervous but excited. God, he loved knowing he and MC had been chosen by this impossibly sexy man. He couldn't wait to break the news.

"Touch me, Luciel," said Jumin, removing his jacket and laying it gently atop his desk. He was stern, but there was a hum of adoration in his voice.

Seven silently unbuckled Jumin's belt and unzipped his perfectly pressed trousers, letting them fall to the floor with a soft jangle. With one hand, he softly teased the Jumin's cock through his boxer-briefs. The long, slender fingers of his other hand went sliding up and under Jumin's dress shirt, as far as the vest would allow.

Jumin tipped his head back in a half-grunt, half-sigh as he grew hard. Seven relished the feeling of it responding to his touch and stiffening beneath his fingers. He was about to giggle when Jumin sighed in pleasure.

"Ah, that's good, Luciel... that's a good boy."

Seven responded to his encouragement with a little more pressure, smoothing the palm of his hand up and down over Jumin's now fully hardened bulge.

"Is that good, too, Sir?"

"Oh yes, Luciel. You're doing very..." He stopped to catch his breath. "...very well."

Seven reached into Jumin's boxer-briefs and began to give his cock long, gentle strokes. With the pad of his thumb, he dipped into the droplet of pre-cum at the head of Jumin's penis and swirled it around, down to the sensitive underside of the glans. Jumin's knees weakened momentarily, resulting in a slight lurch and a guttural grunt.

"Oh. Luciel. Warn me."

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry," said Seven, but he wasn't sorry, and neither was his master.

Jumin removed his tie and unbuttoned his vest, freeing Seven's hand to wander up to his chest, his nipples. When he opened and discarded his shirt, Seven leaned forward--then hesitated. He was, it seemed, adjusting to their new dynamic.

"Jumin, may I kiss you?" Seven's own erection was now absolutely straining against his jeans, aching to be touched. Jumin noticed and yanked at the waist of Seven’s pants, pulling him even closer. With his other hand, he brought Seven’s face—and mouth—devastatingly close to his own.  
 

“No,” said Jumin, and Seven’s throat made a terrible, sad sound. “Turn around.”

When he was facing away, Jumin slid his hands around Seven’s torso and began pulling him back toward his desk. When the edge of it hit the back of his thigh, Jumin rested his weight upon it. He brought Seven into a half-sitting position on his lap, almost spooning him.

Seven readily relaxed against Jumin’s chest, reveling in the sweet pressure of Jumin’s hard-on against his backside. He wanted so badly to grind upon it, to draw the same animalistic groans and grunts from Jumin as he had before. Lost in his fantasy, he foolishly moved his hips against his new master’s lap.

“Nngh—naughty boy,” Jumin chided. “Though you’ve always been one to break the rules.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I swear, I didn’t even know I was—“

Jumin grasped Seven’s throat lightly, just enough to convey his expectations. He bent forward and gently bit at Seven’s ear, eliciting a soft and boyish moan. Then, in a husky whisper, Jumin said:  

“ _Shut the fuck up, Luciel._ ”

With growing urgency, Jumin unbuttoned Seven’s pants and tugged down the zipper. Then, he reached down into them and freed Seven’s dick, now throbbing with tension. He began making slow strokes, kissing and nipping at the back of Seven’s neck. Shockwaves traveled down Seven’s spine, sending him deeper into the pleasure of Jumin’s touch. Each motion left a new expression of beautiful agony on his face.

“Good boy,” Jumin hummed between kisses and licks. “You’re so very good.”

Seven felt his abdomen clench and release involuntarily, causing his body to jerk ever so slightly as the pleasure built inside him. Jumin’s hands were so beautiful; they were well practiced in firm handshakes, yet somehow remained indescribably soft. As Seven watched the fingers tighten their grip and pump his cock more fervently, he realized this must be how Jumin touched himself. 

“ _Fuck_ …” Seven moaned. It was a long, drawn out sound, pure and unrestrained. Seven’s ass pushed back hard against Jumin as he was driven further into the fire.

Then, Jumin withdrew his hands. Seven instantly began to protest.

“Ah—what the f—”

Jumin stood, forcing Seven from his lap. He pulled Seven’s hands behind his back and began to wrap the previously discarded tie around his wrists.  
  
“You’ll let me know if it’s too tight?”  
  
“Yes, Sir,” Seven said with a pleasured whimper. The feeling of being restrained like this, utterly vulnerable to such a powerful man, was a thrill he’d never expected. As an agent, he’d been trained never to allow himself to be placed in such a position, but the lack of control was balanced by his trust in Jumin, his secure belief that this particular man would never hurt him. Not unless the pain was matched by pleasure.

“There. We can’t have you touching yourself without me, can we? Now, Turn around.”

Seven turned and watched as Jumin slipped off his open vest and dress shirt. It was impossible for him to hide his appreciation for Jumin’s body (especially given the fact that his still rock-hard cock was rather exposed). It wasn’t sculpted like Zen’s, but his torso was long and lean, with just enough tone for Seven to see little flexes of muscle in his arms and stomach as he moved. _Delectable._

When Jumin laid his shirt and vest down on the floor in front of him, Seven did not wait to be commanded. He lowered himself to kneel on the padding, doing his best not to fall without his hands. When he was all the way down, Jumin stroked his hair appreciatively.  
  
“Such a smart boy.”

“They say I’m a genius, Sir.”

Jumin raised an eyebrow in amusement as he stepped close and pushed his underpants down around his thighs.

“Do they, now? Well, then—can you guess what I want from you next?”

Seven opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue, his neck and face flushing hot with anticipation. He loved sex in all its forms, but there was something about tasting and feeling Jumin on his tongue that made him absolutely unravel. If he were to suffocate with Jumin’s cock deep in his throat, Seven wholeheartedly believed it would be a good way to go.

Without hesitation, Jumin slid himself into Seven’s hungry mouth. He hissed as he pushed his hips forward, feeling warm, wet lips closing down around his shaft. A long, low moan hummed from Seven’s throat. The vibrations made Jumin grit his teeth and push deeper. Seven struggled not to choke, but the feeling of being utterly used like this was just _so good…_

“God, Luciel, you have such a talent for this,” panted Jumin, settling into a rhythmic pace. It was true; although Jumin was essentially fucking Seven’s face of his own accord, Seven was eagerly slicking his tongue over sensitive nerves and tightening his throat around the head of Jumin’s cock with leisurely swallows. Jumin’s vocabulary was now half curses, half prayers: _fuck, shit, oh god, oh christ._

As he increased his speed, Jumin felt the familiar agony of a rising orgasm building between his legs. Seven could see the muscles of the abdomen before him tensing and twitching as the thrusts became less and less controlled.

Jumin gave a startlingly sweet moan, not far from a whimper. The sound of it hitching with his breath made Seven want to urge him on, to beg for his cum like he had before. He wouldn't dare interrupt his master now, however. Not while he wore the collar.

"Swallow it all, you understand me?" He said, his voice harsh and staccato. "Look up at me. I want to see those eyes when I-- _ah, fuck_ \-- _I'm_ \--"

Inhuman sounds ripped from Jumin's throat as he came, filling the office with the rich honey of his voice. Seven's heart pounded furiously in his chest as he drank his master in, savoring the subtly sweet warmth that only Jumin possessed. His own erection twitched and bobbed, desperate for relief.

Jumin pulled out with unexpected quickness, leaving a thin trail of cum on Seven's soft, pink lips. An equally pink tongue slipped out and hungrily licked it.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Lie back on the floor. I'd like to thank you in kind."

Seven unfolded his knees and leaned back as instructed. The feeling of his still tied hands digging into his lower back made him feel beautifully helpless and filthy. His sensitive hard-on was still throbbing and he gasped when a familiar hand grasped it once again. Jumin was terribly silent as he gave firm, smooth tugs, not a hint of mercy in the grey shadow of his eyes. There was so much longing, so much pressure in Seven’s groin that he felt he might black out. Jumin tapped the side of his face gently to re-focus him.  
  
“Stay with me,” he growled, and Seven instantly bucked his hips upward, the tip of his cock pushing out over the top edge of Jumin’s fist. He could not hold back any longer, arching his back to thrust desperately and repeatedly into the air, aching to push deeper yet knowing there was nowhere left to go. He crushed his eyes shut and cried out, feeling the rush of orgasm collect and overflow, pouring down over Jumin’s elegant fingers.

Just as his master had, Seven filled the room with the music of his voice. If he did not moan, Seven knew, he would most certainly cry. It was the most beautiful feeling he’d had in some time, and as soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt immediately sorry for MC. _It’s okay_ , he told himself. _We’ll feel this together soon enough._

When he was finished and the dizzying feeling finally began to fade, Seven felt the electric shock of a warm tongue licking at him. He watched in awe as Jumin diligently cleaned him up, savoring and swallowing the mess he’d made. When he was finished, Jumin retrieved the pocket square from his suit jacket and rather lovingly dried him off.

The two of them began to re-dress themselves in silence; not out of discomfort, but in awe and disbelief. Yes, they’d done this sort of thing many times before, but the air around them was different now. From the moment they’d settled into their new roles together, something terrifyingly honest had blossomed. The feeling in the room was one of vulnerability, of unwavering trust. It was also one of unbelievable sexual satisfaction.

Jumin flipped up his shirt collar and Seven took it upon himself to begin reaffixing his tie. Finally, he spoke.

“I have to ask,” Seven began, draping the fabric around Jumin’s neck. “Why just me? Why not wait until MC could be here?” He suddenly felt another deep pang of guilt. Sure, they’d talked about the concept of polyamory and MC had (somewhat eagerly) consented to him having sex with Jumin, but he’d just agreed to a rather serious arrangement without ever discussing it with her. 

“I did wrestle with that,” Jumin answered, tilting his chin up slightly to give Seven more room to make the knot. He’d re-tie it the moment Seven left, of course, but the intimacy of the moment was too charming to deny. “Should I invite them both and risk that one agrees so as not to disappoint the other? Should I speak with them each individually before presenting the collars? Ultimately, I chose to take something of a chance.”

Seven finished with the tie and pushed the knot up into place. It was surprisingly tidy. Jumin turned back to his desk, picked up the white box, and handed it to Seven.

“I’d like for you to take MC’s collar with you and present the choice to her yourself.”

“And if she declines?”

“Then our agreement is dissolved.”

“Mine, too?”

“Yes. You and I can continue seeing one another occasionally if MC allows it, but I cannot be your master alone, Luciel. Soul mates must not be separated; therefore, I want you both.”

Seven was choked with sudden emotion. Jumin was right—MC was, unquestionably his soul mate. She lifted him from darkness, calmed him in his distress and accepted him fully without question. Seven wouldn’t want to give that part of himself to Jumin if MC couldn’t be there with him.

"Thank you, Jumin," said Seven, his eyes welling with tears. "If she agrees… god… we're all going to be so good together." Jumin brought a hand to Seven’s face and gently stroked his cheek.

“Luciel, look at me,” he said softly. When their eyes were locked, he leaned in and kissed Seven with unprecedented tenderness.  “From now on, you need never ask to kiss me.”

He gave Seven a few moments to catch his breath, then grinned and nodded toward the office door.

“Now get out, you crybaby.”

Ever the professional, Jumin would not release his own tears until long after Seven had gone. So these were the feelings called “relief” and “joy.” He’d have to remember to write them down.

 


	3. "God Seven--Na Ssalkeogata!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter pretty much immediately spoils Seven's real name. If you don't want to know, don't read on!

The familiar scent of MC’s vegetable curry wafted through the front hall as Seven—Saeyoung— closed the door behind him. As he waited for the automatic locks to engage, he carefully zipped his hoodie up over his neck, lifting the hood to help conceal the collar around his neck. He could have removed it, certainly, but the excitement still lingered in his mind and he wasn’t ready to break the magic just yet.   

“Welcome back, beautiful,” MC called out to him. “I saw you pull in on the monitor. Took the blue baby out today, did you?”

Peeking carefully around the corner, Saeyoung verified that MC was out of sight and quickly stowed the white collar box under the couch.

“Ah, yeah, she’s been dying for a day trip for a while now. I figured since her birthday was coming up she could ferry me to my little ‘meeting’ today.”

There was a clattering in the kitchen as MC hastily abandoned her post at the stove and ran excitedly to meet Saeyoung in the living area. When she found him, she there her arms around his neck and kissed his face repeatedly.

“How was it? Was he sexy? Did ya get what you needed?” she asked, winking. Saeyoung chuckled knowingly.

“Ohhh, my love, you have no idea.” He planted a sweet kiss on her forehead. “Go turn off the stove, I have things to tell you.”

“You’re acting weird as hell right now—none of the usual cat noises or meme references. I'm not sure If I should be excited or scared.” _Probably a little of both_ , thought Saeyoung. He patted her reassuringly on the backside and watched her feminine hips sway as she trotted off to the kitchen. _What a goddamn knockout._

When MC returned, Saeyoung was leaning back on the black leather sofa at the center of the room. With his hands clasped behind his head, there was the barest hint of exposed skin at the waistband of his jeans. It took a great deal of effort for MC to resist attacking the strip of naked flesh with her mouth. Instead, she launched herself over the back of the couch and landed next to him with a victorious “ _bullseye!_ ”

“So, how’s your ass?” she teased. “Did he destroy you?” Saeyoung laughed and tousled MC's hair playfully with his hand.

“No butt stuff today, but—” He held out his wrists to her, revealing the light red marks left by his pleasured straining against Jumin’s tie. MC gasped with delight.

“Ohmigod, that’s fucking _hot_.”

“I know. I swear, that man is in his finest form with my dick in his hand.” MC nodded sagely.

“Your dick has incredible powers.”

MC thought back to the first time she and Saeyoung had made love. No, in truth, he had fucked her silly. It was the evening of Valentine’s Day, the conclusion of an all-day game Saeyoung had lovingly planned with the help of the RFA. She’d taken a bit of bittersweet dark chocolate, and the next thing she recalled he was unzipping her dress, narrating his filthiest thoughts before he put them to the test. It was a night of exploration, of curiosity, of unbridled desire. Until that night, MC had assumed multiple orgasms were a myth of erotic fiction. It was more than incredible—it was _holy._

Saeyoung grinned, noting her half-glazed eyes.

“You’re lost in memory again, babe. Not that I’m not flattered.”

“Who said I was thinking about you?”

“Who wouldn’t? Even I picture myself during sex.” He began to moan dramatically in a feminine voice. “‘ _Oh, Seven! Ohh!_ You’re so big and amazing and also a genius hacker who deserves a raise and a vacation and a brand new Aspin Marvin with custom red leather interior! _Unnnhh!_ '”

MC hit him with a nearby throw pillow emblazoned with his own face. Perhaps he really did think about himself during sex.

“We’re off topic, asshole! Tell me about Jumin’s hands on you. Don’t spare a single detail, I wanna enjoy this.” MC leaned back and started unbuttoning her pants for their usual masturbatory sharing ritual. Saeyoung reached out and stilled her hand.

“Wait, not yet. There’s… something we have to talk about first.” MC said nothing, just tilted her head curiously and placed her warm hand atop his in a “ _go ahead_ ” fashion.

Saeyoung took a deep breath and placed his other hand atop MC's, rubbing her skin gently with his thumb in an act of self-comfort.

“Jumin gave me a gift. A gift for both of us, actually.” MC perked up in surprise.

“What? After we outed him?”

“Yeah, I was just a shocked as you are. But... it’s more of an opportunity than a token of thanks.”

Saeyoung met her eyes and pulled back his hands to carefully tug down the zipper at his neck. When the collar was revealed, MC's jaw went slack.

“Saeyoung… is that...?!”

“In full, eye-popping 3D,” Saeyoung joked nervously. His voice was trembling. To his amazement, MC began to run her fingers over the soft white leather of its band.

“ _Wow._ That’s…” MC searched for the right word. “…intense.”

“Good intense or bad intense?”

MC paused, playing with the “L” charm dangling at the center of his neck. After a tense minute or so, she tilted her head again, puppy-like.

“Good, I think.”

Saeyoung’s sigh of relief was enormous. _Good. Now I can tell her the rest._

“There’s more, nae sarang,” he said, and MC smiled brightly.

“Ooh, the Korean is out. That means shit's about to get good.”

It was true; Saeyoung nearly always spoke English with MC, as her Hangul was poor and riddled with so-called “Koreaboo” slang. It was cute to him, though, so it didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Babe, he wants us both. He wants to be our master. Together. He asked me to offer you your collar.” MC shook her head rapidly as if to clear her ears of seawater.

“Wait—what?”

“I wouldn’t do it without you, MC; he doesn’t want that, either. He said he refuses to separate soul mates and that if you decline he’ll take both collars back. I don’t even have to keep fooling around with him if you’re not comfortable, okay?”

MC's brow was furrowed in confusion, but her lips wore a smile of amusement. Jumin wanted to be their _master_? It was something she’d lightly fantasized about on occasion, but the few times she had actually joined Saeyoung and Jumin in their exploits there had always been a very subtle push and pull. Wearing a collar for him—with her boyfriend—was another kind of dynamic.

She didn’t like it.

She _loved_ it.

“Show me,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “My collar, I mean.”

Saeyoung pulled the box out from under the couch and lifted the lid, tilting his palms up to display the box's content to her. MC stared in awe. A fantasy was one thing, but for this to be real was unbelievable. The truth was now officially stranger than fiction.

“Saeyoung,” she said, gently pushing the box down onto his lap and taking his hands once more. “I’m ready. I want to do this with you.”

“Are you sure? I mean, if you change your mind—today, tomorrow or years from now—you just say the word and we will stop. No questions asked, no late fees, 0% APR, member FDIC.” He squeezed her hands, his eyes beginning to wet with emotion yet again. MC gave him a big, confident smile and cupped the side of his face.

“Collar me, my love.”

Saeyoung lifted the collar from its place in the box and undid the silver buckle. MC held her hair up and leaned forward, allowing him to place it easily around her neck and latch it shut. When he was finished, they both marveled at how well it suited her.  
  
“It fits you perfectly, just like mine did on me,” Saeyoung said with a smile.

“Jumin is nothing if not fastidious,” MC replied. She was completely right; who else but Jumin would be so detail-oriented as to be able to eyeball the size of another person’s neck?

Saeyoung  sat up and clapped his hands together.

“I think we should celebrate. No, I think we should _initiate_ you.” It sounded dirty and cult-ish to MC, which made it an incredible turn-on. “After all, I recruited you, it’s my job to confirm your sincerity.” Saeyoung giggled and crawled forward toward an increasingly red MC.

“Bring it on,” she purred. “Make me a devotee.” The words made Saeyoung's pants feel as though they were shrinking. He hummed thoughtfully as he continued crawling.

“What say we consecrate your membership with a little subbie practice, hm? I'll be your stand-in master while I regale you with the explicit tale of how Jumin and I played together today.”

MC's body was filled with anticipatory static, pinned in place by Saeyoung’s eyes. His face transformed before her from sexual partner and equal to firm-but-benevolent dom. He removed his hoodie and threw it to the floor. Then, he removed his collar and placed it gingerly on the nearby coffee table.

“Saeyoung isn’t here tonight,” he said, his voice dropping by nearly a full octave. “Saeyoung is a gentle lover and a slave to his Master. _My_ name is 'God Seven,' and tonight you will worship me as such. Show your obedience to my word and I will bring you to heaven. Reject me, and—well, you don't want to reject me, my sweet little disciple.”

Saeyoung had discovered long ago that a little bit of blasphemy went a long way when it came to turning MC on. A “ _Jesus Fucking Christ_ ” here, a crossdressing nun roleplay there. Becoming a deity himself and demanding to be worshipped, however, was a new and surprisingly bold move. He’d pray for forgiveness later; now it was time for God Seven to test his lover’s faith.

God Seven’s first commandment was “take off your clothes.” MC complied, and he whistled his approval.

“You’re delicious,” he said, biting his lip in restraint. The next words from his mouth sounded like “let us pray,” but they were undoubtedly “let us prey.”

He dropped down to his knees beside the couch and began to touch and lick her body as he always did, just the way he knew she liked it. His fingers trailed lightly along her inner thighs while his lips roved up over her stomach and chest until he was teasing her nipples wetly with his tongue. MC began to moan, and God Seven would occasionally treat her to a graze from his fingertips across her labia.

After a few minutes of warm-up, Saeyoung slipped his first and second fingers into his mouth, sucked gently, then pulled them back, dragging their tips teasingly along his extended tongue.

“Open,” he commanded in a rich, husky whisper.

MC nodded and parted her legs to him. Saeyoung’s fingers had been inside her hundreds of times before, often in a similarly dominant role, but never had he worn such an intensely devilish look as God Seven did now. She found herself deeply aroused by his predatory affect, her body flushing hot from toes up to crown. He looked to devour her, and MC was fearlessly willing to let him.

God Seven gave an almost fanged smile when his fingers slipped easily into MC; her readiness for him was always a pleasant rush.  
  
“Mm, a very devout girl, I see. Your body is mine and mine alone.” He began with slow, leisurely pumps, drawing timid sounds from MC. “Are you a virgin, sweet girl?” The truth was no, of course, but MC knew very well that the correct answer in this moment was “yes, God Seven. I’ve remained chaste for you just as you’ve asked me.”

Seven’s head tipped back in a satisfied sigh. He gave a particularly firm push that made MC jolt.  
  
“That’s a good girl, waiting only for her God to give her what she needs. Not like those others who give themselves away to just anyone.”

It was strange to hear him talk like this. In reality, Saeyoung was openly unopposed to sex before marriage and was, by all accounts, a feminist. In fact, he sometimes evangelized the positives of pre-marital sex and general promiscuity. Even so, years of Catholic guilt and institutional hierarchy had taught him the valuable lesson that things like authority, chastity, hierarchy and sin made for the most incredible kink-fodder. MC had quite heartily agreed. Someday, they’d decided, they would have to fuck in a cathedral. Hey, if God didn’t want them screwing in his house, he shouldn’t have made it such a hot idea.

“I’m only a whore for you, God Seven,” MC teased shyly. Seven placed his thumb over her clit and began to stroke in broad, slow circles while he fucked her steadily. MC grunted and closed her eyes. 

“Do you touch yourself for me?”  
  
“Y-yes,” MC stammered in faux-embarrassment. She hated sounding like an anime subtitle, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Good,” God Seven said, extending the vowel so that the word oozed from his mouth like thick syrup. “Now, while I fuck you, let me tell you about little Saeyoung’s day with Master Jumin. It all started with a collar just like this one.” God Seven gripped a ring on the side of the collar with a finger, tugging it to give MC’s throat a gentle squeeze. “Saeyoung felt like such a dirty boy with that collar on. Jumin made him very, very hard.” With his last words, he stiffened his fingers rigidly inside her, causing her hips to squirm in place.

“Jumin leaned on his desk and took little Saeyoung into his lap, where he reached around and stroked him with his big, soft hands.” Though he was no longer Saeyoung, the memory of it made God Seven’s cock pulse. “Saeyoung wanted to come all over him, you know that?”

“ _Nn, fuck_ —yes, God Seven. Did he come?”

“No,” he said, frowning and withdrawing his fingers. “Master Jumin would not let Saeyoung come just yet.”

MC writhed and whined with disappointment. God Seven leaned forward and gave her right nipple a sharp little pinch with his teeth. She jerked and squealed.

“Do not question God Seven’s timing,” he chided. “You’ve been warned.”

“Yes, my Lord. Forgive me, please.”

“You are forgiven,” God Seven obliged, trying his best to stay firm and keep Saeyoung from coming forward. “But do not test me. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.”

God Seven unzipped his pants and motioned for her to sit upright. As he freed his erection from his boxers, he marveled at how perfect MC looked like this; completely naked except for the collar, sitting up straight, waiting obediently to suck him. He wondered if this was how Jumin had felt when he’d looked down at slave Saeyoung on his knees.

God Seven kicked his pants aside, brought the tip of his penis to MC’s lips and watched as they parted eagerly to take him in. Her tongue came forward to caress the underside of the head, curving around its girth like a hand reaching out for more. God Seven steadied her head with his hand and slid himself into her mouth, whispering “ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ” like a desperate prayer. He felt MC fight a gag and relax her throat for him. _Christ_ , she was good.

“Saeyoung was a good cocksucker. Can you show me that you’re good, too, little MC?” She tried to nod, unable to move freely with his dick pressed against the back of her throat. Nevertheless, she got her point across. “Good girl. I don’t have a tie, so keep your hands behind your back for me.”

MC began to lick and suck God Seven’s throbbing cock, moaning happily as she did so. The pleasure of it was unreal, causing him to groan loudly and choke on his words as he continued his narration.

“Sae—Saeyoung— _ah—_ Saeyoung took his master deep into the back of his throat just like this _—ngh—_ and  Master Jumin fucked his face _—oh God…_ oh, good girl, MC… _”_

Images of Jumin’s face and body as he neared orgasm flooded back into Seven’s mind, bringing him closer to his own climax. MC, just as aroused by the scene she imagined, could feel a wetness pouring from her, pooling against the cold leather of the couch. She squirmed against it slightly, the sliding pressure making her pussy ache. Luckily, God Seven’s eyes were closed and he did not see her disobedience.

“Saeyoung made him come,” God Seven told his disciple, holding her head still and pumping his dick in and out of her mouth. “He made him come and he swallowed it all like a good b— _ah, fuck_ … I’m gonna come, MC… _I’m gonna c—”_

And he did. Hot bursts of cum hit the back of MC’s throat repeatedly as she swallowed; there was more than there had been in a long time, and MC the devoted drank it up reverently like sacramental wine. God Seven’s eyes were rolled back, his glasses threatening to fall from the bridge of his nose as his head thrashed in time with the clenching pulse of his orgasm.

When he was finished, God Seven’s body was exhausted and his throat was dry. When the post-climactic endorphins hit, he laughed warmly.

“You’re truly a faithful servant,” he said, sounding almost disappointed that he wouldn’t get to torture her for eternity. “You’ve been judged worthy of the pleasures of Heaven.”

Though he was tired, God Seven found the strength to scoop MC up from the couch and carry her bridal style toward the bedroom. Her eyes were lovingly fixed on him, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. Saeyoung loved this woman with all his heart, and God Seven would reward her for it.

By the time he’d laid MC down on the bed, his erection (not quite gone from before) had already begun to re-awaken.  
  
“Our story deviates here,” he said, joining her on the mattress and peeling off his shirt. “Saeyoung was a naughty boy, and Master Jumin did not allow him into Heaven. Poor Saeyoung’s hands were still tied behind his back and he could only arch and moan as Jumin jerked him off. He never got the pleasure of being penetrated.” God Seven positioned himself above MC, lifting and tilting her hips to give him better access to enter her.

“Please, God Seven, take me to Heaven with you,” MC begged almost breathlessly. She wanted him inside of her so badly, she was prepared to bargain with her life. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

“Your devotion shall be rewarded,” God Seven said, placing himself gently at the opening of her vagina and tilting his hips slowly into her. As he filled her up, he thought his eyes might water again. MC slammed her hands down onto the sheets and gripped them, moaning with relief at the feeling of him stretching her out at long last. She panted words of thanks as he went deeper, but they were entirely unintelligible.

The pair of them, now joined as deity and mortal like the Hellenic myths of old, set naturally into a pace of impassioned lovemaking. MC had worshipped her Lord as he had asked, and now he blessed her with his everlasting love. They were, in truth, still human, but as MC and God Seven rocked together, they both sensed something otherworldly and divine.

“I want to take you to eternity, MC,” said God Seven, the tension building back up between his legs. His breath became shallow and he could feel his dominant persona cracking, fading back into Saeyoung. MC braced herself against the headboard with her hands, her breasts bouncing sinfully with the intensity of his uncontrolled thrusts. She was so close, so very close…

“I want to come,” she whimpered. “I want to come with you.” It was all God Seven needed to hear to trigger a final surge of animal lust in his heart.

Taking a tighter grip on her thighs, he fucked her mercilessly and let loose a cacophony of devilish growls. He felt MC’s legs clamp down around him as her mouth opened wide in a silent scream, her cunt contracting down around him as the waves of ecstasy hit. He held on as long as he could, letting her ride out two more lingering orgasms before he gave into his own.

Just as MC was coming for the third time, God Seven pulled out and finished himself over her, jets of cum arcing out over her stomach and chest in a Pollock-esque pattern. MC’s body twitched in the aftershocks, her eyes now focused on her lover’s face as it softened from all-powerful God to sweet, tender Saeyoung once more. As he milked himself a final few times, he sighed heavily, his whole body relaxing into a state of pure contentedness.

Finally, Saeyoung collapsed onto the bed.  
  
“Fucking God, MC,” he said with amazement. “Literally, even.” She giggled.

“You are the finest deity I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’ve seen Athena,” she joked, kissing her fingers like an Italian chef. She reached over to the nightstand for a handful of tissues and began to clean herself up. When she was finished, the two of them settled in under the covers. Saeyoung wrapped his arms tightly around MC and kissed the side of her face.

“I love you, you know. I love you more than anything in this world.”

“Sappy, sappy,” MC teased, poking the tip of his nose. Then, she sighed happily. “I love you, too, Saeyoung. Truly.”

The couple cuddled there together for some time, enjoying the warmth of one another’s skin, silently appreciating the openness and sincerity of their intimacy. Suddenly, Seven popped up.

“I need my phone,” he said, excitedly. 

“What, you gonna call the priest and confess right now?” MC sarcastically crossed herself and bowed her head in silent prayer. 

“You forgot to genuflect,” Saeyoung snarked back, tossing his discarded shirt at her. “Ah, the living room. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

When he returned, he was pulling his phone from the pocket of his previously discarded jeans. MC shifted, propping herself up on her elbows to see what was happening.

“Don’t get up,” Saeyoung said, tapping at his phone screen. Eventually, he held it up and said “okay, give me a pose.”  MC demurely pulled the sheets up to barely cover her breasts, leaving her shoulders and side exposed. She wore a cloying expression, the fingers of one hand extended across her neck to touch the bottom edge of her collar. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Saeyoung hopped back into bed beside her, a huge smile on his face. She watched as he pulled up the RFA text feature and opened a conversation with Jumin.

“He’s going to love this,” he said, tapping the attachment icon and selecting the photo he’d just taken. “Do you like it? Can I send it?” MC hesitated, still re-adjusting to being on equal footing with Saeyoung the mortal.

“Uh—yeah, sure, go ahead.”

 

\---

 

A few miles away in an impeccably kept penthouse apartment, Jumin’s phone buzzed. After marking his place in a book, Jumin set his reading aside and picked up the device. There was a picture message, it said, from 707. Intrigued, he opened it.

There beneath numerous prior sexts and booty calls was a beautiful snapshot of MC, the white collar he’d bought for her wrapped snugly around her slender neck. Jumin prematurely gulped a mouthful of wine. For the rest of the evening, Jumin would eschew his book in favor of reading and re-reading the brief, perfect caption Luciel had included with the photo.  

“ _She said yes!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the chapters keep getting longer each time. Sorrynotsorry kind of? 
> 
> Also, I've officially planned out the remainder of the chapters (at least a first draft of them) and have determined there will be 23 in all! Jesus, I could write an actual book, but instead I'm writing smut. OOPS! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed. Makes all the guilt of not writing anything publishable worthwhile. ;)


	4. Minou et Minette

It was a peaceful Sunday morning when Jumin first noticed the butterflies. They started in his stomach and crawled upward into his throat and out to the ends of his fingertips. The fluttering of their wings was both delightful and terrifying, and his gloved hands shook as he placed a champagne flute at each of the three places he’d set at the table.

MC had been the one to answer Seven’s phone when Jumin called to invite them for brunch. It was the first time he’d heard her voice since she was collared, and he could sense a new kind of warmth in it. He’d kept it short and straightforward as always, but his nerves had left him struggling to breathe throughout the call. Only when he knew they had accepted his invitation could he think clearly again.

Per his usual type A personality, Jumin was presently concerned with preventing the transfer of fingerprints onto the glassware. There was, however, another concern rising in his chest: would Seven and MC find him attractive and charming enough to stay? It had been two weeks since their initial agreement—would the charm and excitement of it have worn off so quickly that they changed their minds? It wasn’t that he needed it; rather, he hoped they wanted it as much as he did.

When he was finished, Jumin stood back, observed the scene, and deemed it acceptable. Not a moment too soon, the doorbell rang.

“Just a moment, please,” he said, rushing to pull a lighter from his pocket and ignite the wick of the candle at the center of the table. He wasn’t used to doing all this himself, but he’d chosen not to involve the staff in this particular part of his life. When he was finished, he rushed back to the door, took a moment to straighten himself out, and opened the door.

“Good morning, Sir,” Seven and MC chirped brightly in chorus. The cuteness of it made Jumin scream internally. He couldn’t stop his face from cracking into a smile.

“Good morning, my darlings,” he sang back. Dressed head to toe in their Sunday best and prominently displaying their collars, the two of them were an absolute feast for his eyes. “You both look absolutely perfect. Please, come in.”

As they entered, Seven looked around and took in the scene.  
  
“You really went all out, didn’t you? And look at that—you’re even wearing gloves. Well, now I feel underdressed.” Jumin hadn’t intended to wear the gloves for anything more than setting the table, but he’d forgotten about them entirely. He fought back a blush.

“Ah, my mistake. These were for utilitarian purposes only.” He pulled the gloves off by the fingers and pushed them into his trouser pocket. “There we are. Now, I believe I owe our princess here a proper welcome.” MC stiffened in surprise.

“Princess, Sir?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have made it more clear that you both are welcome to speak to me normally when we are not engaged in… ‘play time.’ You also won’t be required to wear those collars all the time; only when we’re together for things like this.” MC and Seven nodded in understanding. After a few moments, MC’s expression turned questioning.

“But… we aren’t _not_ allowed to wear it at other times, right?” She asked, somewhat nervously. Jumin raised an eyebrow.

“You’d like to wear it at other times?”

“Well, uh… I mean—“

“I’ll field this one,” Seven interrupted. “We’ve kinda been wearing them whenever we fuck at home.” He winked at Jumin, who was amusedly watching MC bury her face in her hands.

“I… don’t know what to say. I’m very glad, actually. I certainly won’t prevent you from enjoying my gifts whenever and however you wish.” Seven excitedly lurched forward and pulled Jumin into a tight hug.

“So, you’re not Master right now, right? You’re just regular Jumin Han?”

“Er, yes,” Jumin croaked, trying to find a breath as Seven squeezed him. “Though I fail to see why crushing me is necess—“

Seven’s mouth cut him short. Tender fingers slowly raked up through his hair from the back of his neck, drawing out a soft sigh as he relaxed into the kiss. When Seven pulled away, Jumin leaned to chase his lips, catching himself just before he lost balance.

“Thank you,” Seven said, leaning his forehead against Jumin’s. “God, I’ve wanted to do that every second since I left your office.”  The internal screaming continued in Jumin’s skull. _I can’t take it!_ _My heart’s going to explode!_

“I’m happy to hear that, Luciel. I’ll be sure to kiss you as often as I can today.”

Behind Seven, MC fidgeted with her fingers. Her eyes were not envious, but filled with longing. Jumin nudged Seven to step aside and reached out to her. When she gave him her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed.

“Lovely MC, I am so pleased you’ve decided to be a part of this. You look so beautiful in my gift.” 

“Thank you for asking me,” MC squeaked, just barely able to speak. Jumin gestured to Seven.

“Oh, no, thank _him_ for asking you. I simply presented the proposal.”

Seven bowed with a big, dramatic flourish of his hand and Jumin bowed lightly to him in return. Then, Jumin turned back to MC and pulled her close. He leaned in and softly brushed his lips against hers.

“I can’t wait to give you a taste of what’s to come,” he whispered. “Shall we seal this with a kiss?”

It was not a single kiss, but a series. Slowly and deliberately, it became deep and sensual. Jumin brought a hand up to caress her face, while the other pushed her lower back to press her hips hard against him. When their tongues began to touch, she could taste the barest hint of champagne. When they finally broke apart, Seven grabbed his head and groaned at the ceiling.  
  
“ _Ughhh_ , that was entirely too hot!” The angst in Seven’s voice made Jumin laugh.

“It’s rare that I agree so wholeheartedly with you, but you’re right. I’m a little intoxicated, and not because of the champagne.” Jumin slid a hand down MC’s back and gave her ass a squeeze, winking at Seven as he did so. Seven made a frustrated sound. 

“Okay, I know we just got here, but when exactly do we get to play? I’m already going insane.” It was strange; watching them together was different than any other encounter he’d had or porn video he’d watched. It wasn’t just that they were right in front of him, it was that they were both his lovers, his most brightly burning flames. Together, they were a blaze.

“Seconded,” said MC, smoothing out her dress nervously. Jumin kissed her on the forehead and went to the table, doing his best to conceal his half-mast status. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say it.

“Believe me, I’m tempted to take you both to bed right this moment, but I’m afraid we have some business to discuss first.” He pulled out two of the chairs, one for each of his guests. “Please, have a seat. I’ve prepared us a little something.”

When Seven and MC were seated, Jumin poured a bit of peach nectar and champagne into each glass. Then, he brought a tray of freshly baked chocolate croissants to the table.

“Damn, I hope you tipped the chef extra for these,” Seven mused, splitting one in half to reach the sweet center first. Jumin chuckled as he sat.

“No need. These are my own recipe.”

Seven and MC shared the universal expression of _no fucking way._

“You’re kidding, Jumin,” said MC, gingerly taking a croissant from the tray like it was made of gold. “You never told us you could bake!” Jumin took a sip of his bellini and smiled.

“I’m full of surprises, princess. You’ll both learn that very soon.” He gave another quick wink, which made Seven swoon. “Now—about our arrangement; it seems you’re both still in favor of it.” MC nodded enthusiastically mid-chew.

“Absolument, mon capitan,” Seven mumbled, covering his still full mouth with his hand to mitigate his impoliteness.

“Bien, mon minou. Very good. What I’d like to discuss with you, then, is a matter of specifics; first and foremost, our relationships to one another.” Jumin’s expression became serious, but by no means unpleasant. “As you already know, I respect and value the love you already share for one another. I have no intention of destroying that. I don’t need you to have romantic feelings for me, but I’d like for us to share our intimacies equally with one another, even when I’m in the dominant role.” His voice sounded calm, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

Seven was too captivated by the unusual sincerity of the words to speak. Taking the lead for the first time, MC reached out and touched Jumin’s hand. Then, she took one of Seven’s. He understood implicitly and completed the circle by touching Jumin’s other hand.

“We will be as open to you as we are with one another,” she promised him. Seven nodded, a soft, crooked smile on his lips.

“That’s a promise,” Seven added, squeezing both of the others’ hands tightly. He marveled at how beautiful they both looked in the sunlight, how lucky he was to be there in that moment.

“Then I promise the same. What I give to one, I will give to the other. I will do my best to ensure that neither of you ever feels left behind. I can’t expect an absence of jealousy—each of us is human—but when it arises I hope we can each recognize it as unnecessary.”

“We want to talk about it,” Seven explained. “MC and I have already agreed that if there are any feelings complicating things, we’ll talk it out. I’m sure we can do that with you, too, right?”

Jumin was heartened by their forethought. Never had he imagined that this could be possible, much less something they’d have such thorough conversations about.

“Of course,” he assured them. There was a short-lived contentment to things before Jumin remembered his final point of discussion. “There is one last thing, not too dissimilar from the topic of jealousy, in fact.” Jumin was glad for the relaxing effects of the champagne; without it, the tension of this moment would have been unbearable.

“It isn’t easy for me to admit, but I cannot always control the whims of my heart. If I should fall in love, please know that you have every right to turn away.”

Independently of one another, MC and Seven momentarily ceased to breathe. _Did Jumin just say “love?”_ _Impossible._

“We wouldn’t,” Seven promised.

“Excuse me?”

“If that happened, I mean. If you… you know, fell. We wouldn’t turn away from you.” He stopped short of saying whether they might feel the same, but the implication was out, dissolving on the air.

Jumin raised his nearly empty glass in a celebratory toast.

“Then, I suppose that’s it. Cheers to our new arrangement. May it be filled with honesty, integrity, intimacy—“

“And orgasms! Don’t forget orgasms,” Seven interrupted.

“Don’t worry, Luciel. There will be many, many orgasms. So long as you’re good for Master, that is.”

Master Jumin Han and his willing new servants clinked glasses and drank to their new relationship. The glasses were soon emptied. It wasn’t enough alcohol to actually make anyone drunk—they were all still quite capable of conscious consent—but there was a pleasant buzz to things as the ethanol found its way to the blood.

“Well, my dears, I suppose it’s time we began our confirmation rite for the day.” Jumin pushed his chair out from the table and stood, taking a visibly aggressive stance. He’d held himself back all morning, but Master could wait no longer. His voice took on a subtle edge. “Luciel, carry Master’s princess to the bedroom now. I want to make her _mine_.”

 


	5. A Long Awaited Homecoming

Saeyoung had always loved the look of MC laid out naked across a bed. On Jumin's bed, she looked somehow even more inviting, her head propped up by a decorative round pillow. The sheets were white cotton, complementing the soft peach of her skin. Soon, he knew, Jumin would sink his teeth into her ripeness.

“She’s ready for you, Master,” Seven called out to the front room.

“Good boy. And you? Are you prepared as well?” Seven nodded, though Jumin couldn’t see it.

“Yes sir, we’re both undressed for you.”

The sound of fine Oxford heels came slowly down the hall, filling Seven with a sense of extreme vulnerability. When Jumin entered the bedroom, he was still quite completely dressed. He eyed MC carefully, loosening his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. Seven watched as Master's mouth slowly curved into a contented smile.

“Beautiful. And you as well, Luciel. I see you’re already at full attention.” Jumin chuckled amusedly as his eyes roamed down over Seven’s body. As desperately as he wanted to touch that beautiful flesh, he knew it was not Seven’s turn. “You are such fantastic eye candy, my sweet boy, but today is all about our lady.”

“Yes, Sir.” Seven smiled as he spoke, though he could not help being marginally disappointed. “I won’t interrupt.” Jumin stepped forward and petted Seven’s hair, then gave him a soft peck on the lips.

“You’ll be allowed to touch yourself all you want. In fact, I’d prefer it. I may also ask for your help if I need it.” Jumin gestured toward a soft upholstered chair in the corner of the room. “Please, relax a while. I want you to enjoy yourself thoroughly.”

Seven sank down into the chair, relaxing into its plush, velvety texture. He leaned back and spread his legs slightly, on hand poised to stroke, the other to tease and prod.

“That’s a good boy,” purred Jumin as he loosened the thin black tie around his neck. “I think I’ll let you decide how we start. After all, you were kind enough to bring her here for me. The honor should be yours.” Seven’s erection twitched with his surprise.

“Oh. Uh, wow. Okay…” Seven bit his lip thoughtfully, the sight of which thrilled Jumin so intensely that he could feel a sudden rush of hot blood harden him further. “I’d… like to see you lick her.” Jumin raised his eyebrows patronizingly and tossed his tie aside.

“Lick her where, my dear?”

“Between her legs, Sir,” Seven whimpered, his power already drained. Jumin’s brow furrowed in faux-confusion.

“Hmm,” he sighed. “You mean… here?”

Then, he leaned down and trailed his fingers lightly over MC’s inner thigh. When the tips reached the sensitive flesh of the joint where her leg met her body, she squeaked and covered her mouth. Jumin smiled and swallowed hard, struggling to keep his euphoria concealed. Seven gave himself a little squeeze and shifted his hips nervously.

“No, sir… _ngh_ … I’d like to see you lick her… her pussy.”

Still reveling in the power of teasing them both, Jumin played dumb yet again. He pulled back and pointed toward the still open bedroom door.

“Pussy, you say? I was under the impression that Elizabeth the 3rd was the only cat here. Surely you must mean something else.” Slowly, torturously, Jumin began to unbutton his shirt. As his beautiful body was revealed, both MC and Seven squirmed with longing. When he was finished, he tossed the shirt onto Seven’s chest and wet his lips with his tongue.

“You know what I want to hear, Luciel, and you know you want to say it.” Jumin took three slow, sensual strides toward Seven’s chair and leaned over him, bracing himself on its arms. He brought his face down and sent his hot breath wafting over the fair skin of Seven’s neck. “ _Tell me what you want my tongue to taste_ ,” he whispered in staccato, every consonant sharp and clear. The pressure of Jumin’s big, warm hand wrapping around his dick made Seven groan as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Ju— _ah_ —Master,” he whined, resisting the urge to thrust. “I want you to lick her cunt.”

“Ahh, yes. Now I understand. You see how much better it is when you speak clearly?” Jumin turned his attention to MC once again. “Princess, has my Luciel pleasured you like this before?”

“Yes, sir. Many times.”

“And he was good, I’m sure?”

MC thought back to all the times Saeyoung had sunk down between her legs and worshipped her with his tongue. The first time he’d done so, they were in the mountains, lying under the stars in a clearing hidden away from any known paths. They’d spent hours traveling each other’s bodies with their hands and fingers before he’d tugged off her clothes, and Saeyoung had kissed her every few centimeters down the front of her body as he traveled south. When the first lick came, MC thought she saw a shooting star.

In the present, MC nodded. She tipped her head to meet Saeyoung’s eyes and felt her heart swell with love for him.

“He was the best, Sir. I saw stars.”  
  
_How can this be happening?_ Saeyoung wondered. _How can both of them be so incredible?_

“Well, that’s high praise,” said Jumin. “I can’t promise my tongue will be quite so astronomically inclined, but I do promise I'll give you every ounce of care in my soul. I will do whatever it takes to mark you as mine today.” Jumin slipped his hands behind MC’s knees and tugged her carefully forward to the edge of the bed. Finally, he knelt down into place. “There’s one more thing I want from you both today.” The firm way he spoke made goosebumps rise across MC’s body. Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

“Yes, Master?”

“When either of you comes, I want you to look at one another. I want you to hold the gaze as best you can and tell each other how good it feels. Do you understand?”

The two of them nodded, the little silver hearts on their collars jangling pleasantly. Jumin sighed happily and slowly began to run his hands adoringly over MC’s smooth, inviting thighs. He leaned forward and gave one of her knees a little kiss, drawing sleek lines with his fingers down her legs until she shivered. For Jumin, nothing was more intoxicating than seeing his lovers’ reactions to his torturous touch. When he saw her body shudder under his hands, he couldn’t help himself—he parted her legs carefully and gave the flesh of her inner thigh a slow, suckling bite. When she yelped, it only spurred him on. 

Jumin was suddenly struck with the realization that this would truly be their first time together, just the two of them. Though MC had joined the fun on occasion, Jumin had primarily been intimate with Seven. Until this moment, he had never had her all to himself.

Excited by the newness of the experience, Jumin wrapped his hands and fingers around MC’s legs and leaned in for his very first taste. The tip of his tongue just barely brushed her outer labia, but the experience was just as he had dreamed it would be: exquisite. As he flattened his tongue and began to lick, MC moaned appreciatively.

In his corner chair, Seven felt that his heart and brain (and, honestly, his balls) were primed to explode. The visual feast before him was almost more than he could take in, and—considering he’d been hard since almost the moment they’d entered the apartment—he was afraid he’d finish all too soon. Fearing Jumin would be displeased, he allowed himself only to drag his fingers languidly up and down his cock.

 _I’ll be a good boy for Master_ , Seven told himself. _The very best boy._ What he really wanted, though, was to be there behind Jumin while he pleasured MC. He didn’t care whether it would affect Jumin’s job performance or reputation; he absolutely wanted to destroy that ass. He wanted to fuck that gorgeous piece of man until he couldn’t walk.

Jumin’s thoughts were similarly sinful, while MC’s were entirely non-existent. Her mind was absolutely blank, wiped clean by the sheer physical pleasure of Jumin’s exquisite tongue and firm grip. Her low, throaty moans made Jumin absolutely crazy, and at times he found himself humming along.

After some time, Jumin stiffened his tongue and pushed it inside her, the urgency of his movements increasing. One hand came up to assist, making smooth, wet circles around her throbbing clit as he worked. He wanted to fuck her so badly, to take her on all fours or up against a wall, but he knew that was not the goal at present. _Next time,_ he promised himself. _Next time, I will give her all of me._

“ _God damn_ ,” Seven whispered as he stroked himself a bit more firmly. “You two are un-fucking-believable.” He leaned back in the chair, mouth slack and almost drooling.

“Mm—Seven,” MC teased, taking in her boyfriend’s beautifully undone expression. “Master Jumin is so good to us… _ah… so good…_ ” Seven smiled through a surge of pleasure.

“I know, baby. We’re so lucky.”

Jumin might have scolded them for speaking out of turn, but the praise was far too pleasurable to decry. Instead, he pushed his tongue even further into MC, pressing his face against her until he was nearly choked for breath. _Sharp, almost acidic_. She was silent, but a yelping cry from Seven told Jumin that her face had done something beautiful.

Seven struggled to keep his eyes open, but he knew that soon he’d be expected to hold MC’s gaze as she came. When Jumin had plunged his tongue into her, MC’s head had lolled and her mouth had gone slack. Now, as Jumin tongue-fucked her more deeply, Seven knew very well from the sounds she made that she was very, very close.

“Look at me, baby,” Saeyoung said. It took incredible focus for MC to lift her head and direct her eyes to him.  
  
“Are you gonna come?” Her voice was weak, and it trembled.

“Soon,” Saeyoung said, his heart hammering. He could see the fog of savage desire in her eyes. “ _Fuck,_ baby. Really, _really_ soon…”

Cued by their exchange, Jumin slipped his tongue from MC’s cunt and sloppily wet two fingers in his mouth. He slid them both carefully into the vacancy he’d left and returned to making slow, firm circles around her clit with his tongue. Soon, their moans were unhinged and erratic.

Jumin felt some regret that he could not see Seven from his position; the furniture would have to be rearranged before their next visit.

“ _Ah—_ Seven, Master’s gonna make me come…”

Jumin placed his hand firmly against her lower abdomen, steadying her body for the tremors.  
  
“Baby,” Seven rasped, “ask Master if you’re allowed.” Jumin startled.  _Such a good boy!_ If he hadn’t already been painfully hard, Seven’s obedient tutoring would certainly have stirred him.  
  
“Master, may I come?” MC’s voice was hoarse with panting. Jumin briefly considered denying her climax, edging her slowly and ultimately ruining her orgasm right there in front of her boyfriend. For now, however, he acquiesced.

Jumin got up from his knees and helped MC to slide further back onto the bed. Plans be damned—he couldn’t not have her when she was whining like this.  
  
“I’m going to fuck you, now, Princess. Be a good girl and come hard for me.” Both MC and Seven whispered their thanks as Jumin tugged down his trousers and boxer-briefs to roll a previously concealed condom onto his erection. Seven grinned exhaustedly at the sight, a single ineloquent thought repeating in his mind: _dat ass._

Then, with care and sincerity, Jumin guided himself into a now desperate MC.

To say that Jumin was rough with MC would be a juvenile representation of the deep intimacy of the act. He was not rough, but feral and committed. He cowed to the uncivilized demands of his primitive mind, fucking her with complete freedom and abandon.

_God, that pussy is good!_

Seven’s mouth and ass were beautiful, yes, but this morning Jumin wanted nothing more than the sweet, natural slickness and fleshy, ripe glory that only a woman like MC could offer. If not for the forethought to apply contraception, Jumin would almost certainly have risked fatherhood to satisfy this unstoppable need.

Seven cried out from the corner with intense urgency.  
  
“Master—I’m not gonna be able to—to stop it! Fuck, I have to come...”  
  
“ _Nicely_ , Luciel,” Jumin barked between the slaps of his thrusts.” Seven squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the electric flow of inevitability rise to a peak.  
  
“Master! May I come, please? Please! I’m gonna— _oh, fuck_!”

“Look at her and come, Luciel.”  
  
Saeyoung could scarcely keep his eyes open to see at all, but when MC met his squinting gaze, it was over for them both. Saeyoung stiffened his entire body like a board, every muscle tensing into the grooves of his ribs, his hips, his hands. His mouth hung dumbly open in a silent cry, eyes longing to crush closed in total-body contraction. In a moment, he was spilling—no, absolutely _spurting_ —his cum over his hands and thighs, letting it drip down and pool on the velvet of Jumin’s chair. A throat-rattling growl escaped as he came, and he continued to twist his wet hand up and down through the aftershocks, milking three more small gushes of pleasure from his cock.  
  
The powerful silence of Seven’s overwhelming orgasm drove Jumin toward the edge, and he whimpered unexpectedly as he came. He did not announce it, but MC could feel him twitch and see the way his abdominal muscles clenched tight before release. He exploded, wishing for a moment that there were no barrier between them, that MC could feel the hot flow rushing deep into her.  
  
MC felt only the uncontrollable bucking and twitching of her body as it surrendered to her Master’s command. Over and over, her pussy clenched tight and released, each contraction washing her with pure pleasure and emotion, giving Jumin a gentle squeeze. Seven fought back tears—not of jealousy, but of… was it _gratitude_? Whatever it was, it filled him with comfort and affection.

When the chain of climaxes was finished, the three of them sleepily cleaned themselves up. Jumin presented three matching white satin robes, and they donned them appreciatively, exchanging only soft smiles and quiet chuckles in the peace of the afterglow. It was not awkward—it was simply a mutually understood time of reflection.  

Once they were finished, the three of them sat together at the edge of the still unmade bed, Jumin appropriately sandwiched between his beloved pets. After a few moments more of quiet appreciation, Seven spoke.

“I… have something I want to say. Something I’ve only shared with MC until now.” Seven looked to MC, who reached out and squeezed his hand as if to say _I’m here, you can do this._ He didn’t have to tell her; she already knew what he was going to say.

“You have my undivided attention, my dear,” Jumin assured him. He lifted Seven’s other hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss.

"I’ve always called myself by different names, mostly just ‘Seven’ or ‘707,’ but you’ve always called me Luciel. And I’ve really appreciated that, you know? I chose that name for myself, and it’s always been a part of this special sort of bond between me and God. So, really, it means a lot to me that you use it all the time. Even when I tried to keep everyone at bay by using nicknames all the time, you insisted on using my chosen name.”

Jumin smiled warmly and kissed Seven’s hand once more.

“Of course, Luciel. I try my best to show you how much I value and respect you.”

“You absolutely do,” Seven agreed. “And that’s why I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“I’m sorry?”

Before Jumin could press further, Seven pulled him into a deep and earnestly affectionate kiss. It was a kind he’d never had before in his life, the kind that drops you fifty stories in an instant and makes the world mystifyingly hazy and unbearably clear all at once. It broke him, and he felt it.

When Seven pulled away, he stopped only an inch or so from Jumin’s mouth.

“Saeyoung,” he whispered, eyes still closed.

“Saeyoung?”  
  
“My name is Saeyoung, Jumin. I want you to know the real me, just as she does.”

 _Fuck,_ thought Jumin. _Don’t cry. Please, God, don’t let me cry right now._

“It’s beautiful. _Saeyoung._ I already love the way it feels to say it. Don’t you?” He looked to MC, who was nodding happily as she sheepishly wiped her teary eyes. “Oh, my princess,” Jumin purred, giving her a gentle smile. “I hope one day you’ll tell me what ‘MC’ stands for, too.”

Saeyoung tackled her excitedly.

“Ooh, I know, I know! It stands for Mrs. Choi!”

The three of them laughed. Truth be told, MC didn’t have an explanation. Those two letters were, in fact, the name on her birth certificate. Even her parents couldn’t remember why. It was just one of those things.

Not one to leave his lovers wanting, Jumin leaned into MC and kissed her with the same tenderness he’d shown to Seven. To _Saeyoung_. Their mouths were so different, he thought, yet so equal in their sweetness and perfection.  
  
“I’m so happy you’ve joined us, Princess. I hope to return even a fraction of the joy you’ve both given me today.”

Utterly satisfied with the way the morning’s events had unfolded, Saeyoung pulled Jumin’s arm around his shoulders and and fell back, yanking him down into an unexpected cuddle. MC followed suit, nestling herself along the other side of Jumin’s body as if to leach its warmth. Jumin laughed brightly—a free and lilting sound not one of them had ever heard before. _I think this suits me,_ mused Jumin. _Happiness suits me._

“I have this crazy sense of belonging, suddenly,” Saeyoung sighed. “It’s like we’ve been with you for years.”

Until that moment, Jumin had never realized he’d been truly lonely all his life. With Saeyoung and MC in his arms, his heart was so full that he worried he might not survive the emptiness of their absence. Unwilling to let them go for even a moment, Jumin awkwardly used a foot to drag the bedding far enough for the others to pull a sheet up over their bodies.  
  
Tangled together, the warm contentment of their new union filling the room, Jumin’s happily spent playthings were lulled into a pleasant mid-morning nap. He dared not join them; he couldn’t bring himself to decline this opportunity to watch them, to memorize their faces and cherish the slow, gradual synchronization of their three heartbeats.

“Welcome home,” Jumin whispered to his lovers. He kissed them each once on the forehead and closed his eyes. Silently, he prayed.  
  
_Stay with me, even as I fall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so much longer than I'd planned! I hope you love this chapter as much as I do (because I legitimately do). Thanks for all the subs, kudos, bookmarks and comments so far; knowing I can titillate y'all is why I write this trash. Also I enjoy the hell out of writing these three together (a.k.a. thinly-veiled Mary Sue-ing), so there's that. 
> 
> Love you guys! Thank you for keeping this fandom healthy so I could be late to the party and still get involved! 
> 
> Oh, and thanks to all my fellow smut peddlers who keep Hanes and Fruit of the Loom in business by destroying my undies day after day. You're the real MVPs.


	6. Masochisti-curious

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you what’s going on, Yoosung, it’s just that things are a little more complicated than they were before.”  
  
At the other end of the line, Yoosung clicked his tongue dismissively.

“What could possibly be more complicated than you and MC having threesomes with Jumin?”

“Trust me, there are things. It used to be fun to share a little TMI now and again, and I don’t regret helping Jumin come out to everyone, but—“  
  
“You mean by talking about his junk and outing him in the chat?” Yoosung sounded more than just a little irritable, and Seven winced.

“Yeah, well, he and I talked about that. Maybe it wasn’t exactly right, but it’s water under the bridge now.”

“So he forgave you because you promised not to say anything from now on?”

“No, that’s—look, I just don’t want to say anything about it yet, okay? This situation is…” Seven closed his eyes, recalling the warmth of Jumin’s touch, the smell of MC’s hair as they had lain together in the penthouse bedroom. “…it’s still new.”

Yoosung’s sigh was part relief, part frustration. He was glad to know there would be no disturbing details, but simultaneously anguished by remaining in the dark.

“Anyway, I should go,” said Seven, rubbing his face in fatigue and frustration. “And I don’t want you talking to anyone else about this, all right? It’s just nobody’s business.” Yoosung felt a wash of shame.  
  
“Oh.”

“Oh, god, dude, I didn’t mean it like that. I trust you. If I’d wanted to avoid the topic, wouldn’t I have just used my usual humor to deflect your questions?”  
  
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”  
  
“It is true. Hey, study hard tonight, okay?” Seven pitched his voice higher in an attempt to sound motherly. “Don’t just play LOLOL all night, now. You’ve got to be more responsible, like that sweet 707 boy. He’s an angel—a golden, perfectly-sculpted angel. You can really learn a lot from a perfect hunk of manly man meat like that! “  
  
He hated when Seven nagged him, but Yoosung couldn’t help but smile at the way Seven always seemed to truly care.  
  
“Okay, dude. I got it. And thanks.” Yoosung heard a kissing sound before disconnection. After the call, he lay quietly on his bed, flipping idly between apps. _It’s still new? What does that mean? What’s still new?_ Yoosung rolled onto his stomach, brought up his contacts and poked at one with his thumb.

“Whoa, you never call me.”

“Are you busy right now?”  
  
“Nah, not really. I’m supposed to be reading a new script, but I’m just sitting here drinking beer. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ever since that whole Jumin being gay thing, I’ve been kind of off my game.” Zen sounded truly perturbed.

“Really? That didn’t bother me so much.”  
  
“Eh, it’s just weird to find out something you’ve always joked about is true, you know? Jumin Han, the rich kid with women constantly falling all over him, is gay.”  
  
“Well, he’s bisexual, not gay.”

“Sure, yeah, I knew that. Hey, can we not talk about this anymore? Why did you call?”

Yoosung choked a bit. It may have been a mistake to call Zen, but there was little other choice; calling Jaehee was not an option, and the rest of the RFA was—something. Something Yoosung couldn’t quite grasp.

“Have you noticed how weird things are between Jumin, Seven and MC? Something’s going on.” Yoosung heard a long, pained exhale.  
  
“I will pay you to talk about _literally anything_ but that.”

“I’m sorry, Zen, but I just got off the phone with Seven and he said some things that I can’t stop thinking about.” This time, Yoosung heard a sputtering, spitting cough.  
  
“ _Ugh_ , dude, I just choked on my beer! God, kid.” Zen frustratedly wiped at the front of his shirt with his free hand. “All right, I’ve steeled myself. What kind of ‘things’ did Seven say, exactly?”

Yoosung twisted the fabric of his shirt nervously as he struggled to phrase his thoughts. He’d barely spoken to Zen about anything before, much less anything like this. _How do I say it without sounding like a pervert?_

“Well, he was the one who brought up, you know, the incident in the chat. I’d been trying to forget about it, honestly, but Seven just seemed—I don’t know—”

“Excited?”  
  
“Yes, exactly.”

“Yeah, even I’ve noticed that about him lately. I was just trying to convince myself it wasn’t about _that_.”

“Yeah, well, it was. It is.” Yoosung closed his eyes and draped an arm over his face. “Zen, there’s something else going on. Something bigger.”

“Yoosung, they’re fucking, I get it. We all get it. None of us want to, but there it is.”  
  
“Zen, I’m serious! I think it’s, like, _weird._ ”

Sudden, boisterous laughter exploded from the phone.

“Of course it’s weird, there’s a threesome going on between MC, an emotionless billionaire robot and a sugar-high computer dweeb. Just do what I’m doing—what I’m _trying_ to do, anyway—and don’t think about it. Get some beer, that’ll help.”

“He called him ‘Master.’”

Zen felt as if his heart had ceased to beat.

“What?”

“Seven referred to Jumin as ‘Master.’ I don’t think he noticed when he said it, but I sure did.”

“Christ, dude, are you sure you heard him correctly? Maybe he said 'bastard.' It makes a hell of a lot more sense.”

Yoosung’s heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t possibly explain to Zen that he knew with absolute certainty the word that Seven had used. He could hardly understand it himself. Seven had been so careful to avoid any particularly salacious details, for which Yoosung was genuinely grateful, but the moment the word ‘Master’ was spoken, a warm flush had spread like lightning throughout his body.

For the briefest of moments, he had felt Jumin’s fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists, teeth nipping teasingly at the cartilage of his ear. With just one word, everything inside him had been electrified. And, most confusingly to Yoosung, he had become almost instantly hard. Even now as he remembered it, he wanted so badly to be praised—and punished. By anyone, really.

“No. He definitely said ‘Master.’”

“Gross. What the hell does that even mean?” Zen paused a moment. “On second thought, I really don’t want to know.”

“Well, I do.” Yoosung swallowed nervously, as if to push down the desire that threatened to stir in him again. _God help me, I really do._

“For fuck’s sake, Yoosung. I know you’re a young college guy, but this is a level of horny and desperate even I can’t comprehend.”

“I want you to help me, Zen.”

“Excuse me?” Zen was willing to do a lot for Yoosung, but helping him satisfy some weird fantasy about their mutual friends was certainly not on the list. “Buddy, I think you need a girlfriend for that.”

“Not like that, dummy. I want you to help me figure out what exactly is going on.”  
  
Zen paused a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an oncoming headache. Delving into the details of this already disturbing arrangement was the furthest thing from his list of interests, but he’d never been able to deny a request from Yoosung; they were pathetic, the both of them.

“Just promise me I won’t have to talk to Jumin. I’d sooner rub cat fur in my eyes than have an awkward discussion with that total douche.” Zen fiddled nervously with his now empty beer can. “’Jumin’ and ‘sex’ don’t belong in the same sentence.” _Not without—_

“Of course,” Yoosung promised. “We don’t have to talk to him, anyway. I’ve got a better idea, but I can’t do it alone.” It was true; they wouldn’t need to talk to Jumin. Not having to see him naked, however, was not a promise Yoosung could make. He prayed Zen wouldn’t ask.

“Ugh. All right, you know I can’t say no to you. I’m in.”

“Great. Meet me outside Seven’s place in an hour and a half.”  
  
“Wait, whoa, at Seven’s— what d’you—“  
  
“I have to go. 3:30, okay? And don’t let anyone recognize you.” Yoosung didn’t say goodbye.  
  
Zen stared at his phone screen for some time, mouth agape. Then, he cracked another beer, chugged as much as he could, and put on his shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHALLENGERS HAVE APPEARED! In an extremely short chapter with very little smut content. But there'll be more filthy filth in the coming chapters!
> 
> Also: Poor, poor Zen.
> 
> Also also: I'm re-thinking the structure of things, so I'll be leaving the total chapter count unknown for a while.


	7. Friends and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zen and Yoosung meet at Seven's place to unearth the secrets of the threesome. Things get interesting rather quickly.

“Zen, give me a cigarette.”  
  
“What the—Yoosung, who the hell are you?”  
  
“Just give me one, okay?”  
  
Zen scanned the area behind Seven’s apartment as if unseen authorities would pounce on him the moment he dared to corrupt this pure and innocent young man. Nervously, he slipped a cigarette from his jacket’s breast pocket and palmed it.   
  
“I’m going to hell for this, you know,” he said, surreptitiously slipping the cigarette into Yoosung’s outstretched hand. “Your lungs are too precious to be destroyed like mine.”

Yoosung shook his head, laughing.   
  
“I’m not going to smoke it, Zen. Light it.” He held it up, grinning mischievously.

Zen was immediately struck by how strangely debonair Yoosung looked with the cigarette perched comfortably between two fingers. Zen rifled rather nervously through jacket and pants pockets, then produced a cheap butane lighter.   
  
“You’re freaking me out, kiddo,” he said, flicking the lighter to flame. He held it to the cigarette until it caught in Yoosung’s hand.   
  
“Thanks,” Yoosung said, carefully studying the smoke as it began curling into the air. “But I’m only three years younger than you, Zen. Call me something else, okay?”

Confused by Yoosung’s unusual boldness, Zen simply stood with his mouth agape as Yoosung blew gently on the ash end of the cigarette, swelling its orange glow. Before he could ask, Yoosung caught his puzzled expression and laughed.

“Don’t look at me like that, Zen. Seven taught me this.”

Yoosung raised his hand and waved the end of the cigarette at a point just above the heavily secured door. Moments later, the two were drenched in a sudden downpour. Yoosung giggled, dropping the damp butt and grinding it into the concrete with his heel. He turned and winked at Zen.

“Sprinkler system,” he said.   
  
“No shit,” Zen growled.

Yoosung swiped his foot along the bottom edge of the door until it caught something, then flicked at it with the toe of his shoe. A metal flap dropped open, revealing a small drain.  
  
“See, the smoke triggers the sprinklers, and the sprinklers trigger the drain latch. And in the drain,” Yoosung said, shoving his fingers down into the hole, “is Seven’s backup key.”

Zen was stunned. Yes, this was Seven’s over-engineered, absurdly complicated system—and Seven’s clever means of circumventing it—but Yoosung’s calm, cool execution had been a total surprise. Just as unexpectedly, the whole thing had left Zen a little light-headed.

Yoosung slipped the wet key into the lock, turned it clockwise, then counter-clockwise, then clockwise again. Finally, he pushed the entire lock into the door, and the latch popped open with a _click_. 

“He wouldn’t give me a key of my own, but Seven said he wanted me to be able to get in if anything bad happened to him.”

As they slipped beyond the door, Zen’s cognitive abilities slowly reassembled themselves.

“Jesus, I should have known Seven would do something so bizarre. Why’d he pick you and not—I dunno—me? Or Jaehee?”

“He thinks I’m trustworthy, I guess.”

Zen laughed.

“So much for _that_.”  
  
“Yeah, well, this is important. Honestly, I didn’t know for sure if he’d still have this stuff set up after he left the agency. I’m glad I remembered how to use it.”

The door clicked, locking behind them. The interior of Seven’s home was cool and dry, filled with the low hum of what Zen could only imagine were dozens of servers. As he followed Yoosung around the corner from the back entrance, soft lamps slowly illuminated the place throughout.  Zen whistled quietly in awe.

“Pretty cool, huh?” asked a still-grinning Yoosung. He knew that Zen wasn’t impressed with anything he’d done himself, but Yoosung still felt a rush of self confidence from showing off what he knew. _Thanks for trusting me with your toys, Seven,_ he thought. _Sorry to use them like this._

Yoosung went immediately to a computer desk at the corner of the room; it was the one Seven had often allowed (even encouraged) him to use for LOLOL when he was visiting. It was also the one on which Yoosung had made a rather startling discovery.

“Seven’s got at least one camera in everyone’s house. Every member of the RFA is under his protective watch at almost all times.”

“I know,” Zen said, pulling up a second desk chair. “He told us, remember? Security or whatever. Wasn’t too happy about it, considering.”  
  
“Yeah, well, that’s exactly why we’re here.” Yoosung booted up the system, holding down a series of buttons. After a few moments, the screen blinked out, returning with a black and white grid of video footage. “Here. This is where the cameras are.”

Zen scanned the screen as Yoosung scrolled: entrances, exits, living rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms…

“Wait, he’s got bedrooms and bathrooms on this thing?! Am I the only one who didn’t know about this?” Zen gripped his head, mussing his own hair in disbelief. Yoosung shook his head sheepishly.

“No, I don’t think anyone else knows either, except _maybe_ MC. I sort of, well, accidentally stumbled into this camera thing when I was booting this thing up for a raid. Seven doesn’t know I found it—I don’t think he does, anyway—so it’s not like I can confront him about where the cameras are. And… I’m hoping you won’t rat me out.”

There was absolutely nothing Zen liked about the idea of Seven being able to watch him in his most secret, sacred of spaces. They’d all been told that such places were off-limits, that they were still free to pee and fuck in private. Sure, it was comforting in a sense to know that there was no place an intruder could hide from the cameras, but _those rooms were where he jerked off, damn it!_

Zen held his anger for a moment, then released it. At least, he thought, his naked body was beautiful enough that he needn’t feel ashamed if Seven saw it.

“Nah, I won’t rat you out. I’m not exactly happy about it, but there’s no sense in freaking everyone else out, too. Besides, so long as we’re the only ones who know about it, we have an advantage, right?”  
  
Yoosung smiled; it was the first time all day he’d looked truly like himself.

“Exactly! And right now, that advantage is going to get us some answers.”

Toward the bottom of the video grid were the unmistakable images of Jumin Han’s penthouse apartment. Yoosung opened each one in a new browser tab, then dragged each one into a corner on the desktop.

“There,” he said, triumphantly. “Unless Seven lied to me, the three of them should be arriving at Jumin’s place in about…” He checked his watch. “…20 minutes.”

Zen nodded stoically, still mesmerized by the surreal nature of it all. He’d never have dreamed that this day would have ended up where it was now. He surmised that not even his nightmares could be so bizarre. After a few minutes of silence, he turned toward Yoosung, who was now idly poking at his phone.

“Hey, so, this has all been really interesting and stuff—I mean, you broke into Seven’s house with a cigarette, which is pretty badass on its own—but I still don’t totally understand this. Why exactly did you need me to come with you?”

Yoosung blinked as though he didn’t understand the words.  
  
“Oh. Well, I didn’t necessarily need you for this part, I guess, but… I just thought we were going to investigate this stuff together. Since you said you’d help me, I mean.” Yoosung hung his head and awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I guess I don’t mind playing the role of moral support for the time being. That’s not the only thing you need me for, I hope?”

“No! Well, okay, support is a big part of it, but I’m also hoping you can help me gather some intel, so to speak.”

Zen laughed, delighted by Yoosung’s determination to appear serious and mature. Honestly, he had always found that unique mix of innocence and boldness to be rather charming.

“Now you’re talking. A little manipulation, a little deception—hey, I can even show you my seduction skills.” He gave Yoosung an equally beguiling wink. _He’s not prey, you beast,_ Zen scolded himself. _Down, boy! Down!_

Yoosung swallowed dryly and was overcome by an ugly, sputtering fit of coughing. Zen’s peculiar quip remained unacknowledged, and the two of them sat silently for the remainder of the wait. It was certainly not the longest 20 minutes of Zen’s life, but damn near so.

Finally, something stirred at the corner of the entryway camera. Through the front door came Jumin, dressed in a finely tailored, dark-colored suit that made Zen hold his breath momentarily.

“Hey, something’s—”

“I see it,” said Yoosung, grabbing the mouse and dragging it to the video feed in question. With a few clicks, the footage filled the screen and small scuffling sounds began to issue from the desktop speakers.

“Saeyoung, will you take our coats, please?” asked the image of Jumin on screen, turning back to the shadowed figures that followed him into the front room.

“Who the hell is ‘Saeyoung’?” Zen asked, brow wrinkling. Yoosung shook his head as if to say ‘how the hell should I know?’

“My pleasure, Sir,” said the first figure, whose form quickly took shape as he stepped into the light. Zen watched in awe as Seven (or Saeyoung, apparently) took Jumin’s jacket by the lapels and pushed it back over his shoulders. Seven then turned to the third figure—now revealed to be MC—and took a jacket barely thicker than a cardigan sweater from her hands. When he was finished, he removed his own coat and disappeared behind the door of a closet.  

As Seven closed the closet door, something sparkled around his neck. Zen squinted at the screen, looking back and forth between the figures.

“Jesus Christ, are those… _collars_?”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Yoosung whispered breathlessly. “It’s true, they really are—“

“Yeah, I know,” Zen interrupted. “But we knew that already, didn’t we?” He leaned his head into his hand, trying his best to hide his growing pout and reddening face. _Shit. It’s really true, isn’t it?_

The three on the monitor moved together through the apartment, not to the spacious comfort of the living room, but down a long hallway decorated with what Zen thought were utterly pretentious pieces of artwork. Some were better than others—probably prints from V’s private photography collection—but still, they made him snort with derision.

“What a pompous asshole,” he huffed. Yoosung chuckled, which set them both at relative ease.

Yoosung clicked through the camera feeds to follow the group through the penthouse: Hall 1, Hall 2, et cetera. Finally, he spotted them strolling comfortably into a large, beautifully appointed room marked by a huge bed and a plush, elegant chair.

“Master Bedroom,” Yoosung read at the top of the video. He swallowed hard. “Zen, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this after all.” Despite his words, his eyes never left the screen. Zen nodded slowly, his chest tightening like a screw had been turned in his ribcage.

“Ah, yeah. You’re… you’re probably right.”

But they did not move.

“That brunch was incredible,” MC sighed. Zen and Yoosung watched as she spread out her arms and fell back into the soft blankets of Jumin’s bed. “Best food I’ve had in ages. Best company, too.” She used her toes to kick her shoes off by the heels, then curled up and patted the space beside her invitingly. “Saeyoung, my love, would you join me in thanking Master for such a beautiful date?"

“Gladly, sweet girl,” Seven agreed, and he climbed into the bed beside her. Jumin stood at the end of the bed, leisurely loosening his tie and cuffs. Back in Seven’s bunker apartment, Zen began to twist and fidget in his chair.   
  
“God, dude, no. I can’t see him naked. I won’t.”

“Close your eyes, then,” Yoosung whispered, as though his voice might carry through the monitor. Zen scoffed.

“And not see MC's tits? Are you insane?”

Yoosung waved at him dismissively with another sharp “ _shhh!_ ” On the screen, Seven had begun to undo the zipper at the back of MC's dress. Zen leaned in and squinted at the wall behind the two.

“Hey—there. There’s another camera, I think,” he said, tapping at the spot on the screen. Yoosung nodded and clicked through the feeds until they were in the place Zen had found, watching from just above the headboard.

“Jackpot,” Zen whispered, almost breathlessly.

The sounds of wet kisses and gentle moans were much louder now; the closeness of this new camera gave the voyeurs in Seven’s apartment an almost obscene window into the lovers’ intimacy. Slowly, Saeyoung pulled the thin straps of MC’s dress down and slipped the clinging fabric down her sides and hips. She had worn nothing underneath, and Zen and Yoosung were mesmerized by the reveal of her natural breasts, the nipples perfectly suited to their size and shape.

The room was silent, but for the steadily increasing weight of their breath as they watched in awe. As Seven’s hands came up to stroke MCs most sensitive spots, Yoosung could feel  swelling almost too quickly. He glanced briefly over to Zen's lap, where he could see the strain of a hard bulge growing in his tight black jeans. It shouldn’t have made him harder, and yet…

“Shit, Yoosung. I don’t know if I can watch this without, you know, ending up with blue balls.” Zen shifted his weight once more, trying to free more space for his growing dick. Yoosung, on the other hand, had softened slightly with sudden confusion. _Can your balls really turn blue?_

“Blue balls?”

“Ah, it’s just an expression,” Zen said, recognizing how literally his inexperienced friend might have taken his words. “When your really horny and can’t get—er— _release_ , it starts to ache pretty bad. It’s as if it’s so pent up your balls might turn blue. Some people claim they really do, but I don’t know about that. ”

The idea that Zen's testicles (and his own, for that matter) might ache and turn blue was horrifying. Even if it was only an expression, Yoosung knew wanted to avoid any possibility of finding out, no matter the cost.

“Release it!” he shouted, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

“Excuse me?!”

“I mean… I don’t want your balls to turn blue! Or hurt. Or whatever. Just… let’s just do it and pretend we’re not here with each other, okay?”

“You wanna jack off with me? Oh, no. That is _not_ happening.” Zen's words seemed clear and certain, but the increasing stiffness between his legs was a shocking betrayal. Masturbating side-by-side with Yoosung? It was ludicrous! _And why_ _wouldn’t his damn erection go down?!_

On the monitor, MC and Saeyoung were now both completely naked, kissing and stroking one another’s bodies while Jumin watched with cool authority. Yoosung began to unbutton his pants.

“Well, you can do what you want, but I’m not letting my balls fall off.”

Zen watched helplessly, almost frozen, as Yoosung loosed a surprisingly decent cock from his boxers. For a small-statured college runt who spent more time gaming than he did breathing, Zen found that Yoosung was carrying much more than he’d imagined. Zen had only pictured it briefly for the sake of competitive comparison, of course. That was the story he’d told himself, anyhow.

“Fuck it,” Zen sighed, surrendering to the urge. “It’s not like we've never seen dicks before, right?” Nervously, he tugged open his zipper and bunched his tight jeans and boxer briefs down around his thighs. “Not like we have to touch each other or anything,” he said with an awkward chuckle. _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Suddenly, Jumin's voice rang out:

“Stop.”  His pets, Saeyoung and MC, were instantly still. Yoosung and Zen were still, too, their hands hovering anxiously over their respective groins. MC, my princess—what would you like to see first?”

MC put a delicate finger to her chin, then slipped it deep into her mouth and grinned.

“I’d like to see little Sae choke on his favorite candy, master.” She swirled the finger around in her mouth, inciting a gag reflex as she pushed it back into her throat. If not for the still fresh awareness that they were sitting beside one another with their palms around their privates, Yoosung and Zen would have exchanged a look of shock.

“Saeyoung, is that what you’d like?” Jumin began to unbutton his suit trousers, revealing a tight pair of wine red briefs. Saeyoung nodded eagerly.

“Yes, Master. Yes, Sir, I would.”

Suddenly, things were very different. Just moments ago, Zen and Yoosung had come to a largely unspoken agreement to jerk off together to the sight of MC getting pounded by two guys. Now, it seemed, there were dangerous new questions in the air: what would it mean if they got off to two guys alone? And what would it mean if those guys were _Seven and Jumin_?

For a minute or so, they simply watched as Seven kissed Jumin and palmed at him through his underwear. Zen's eyes were transfixed on the growing bulge there, and it quickly made him hard once more. Yoosung, on the other hand, was enchanted by Jumin's stare; the way he eyed Seven like a beloved possession, always firm and in complete control. In moments, Yoosung was sitff again, as well.

Finally, Jumin was fully disrobed and naked before the camera. As Seven lowered himself into all fours, Jumin knelt atop the mattress and brought his hard-on to Saeyoung’s lips.

“Lick it,” he commanded, and little Saeyoung did. As his pet licked repeatedly from base to tip, Jumin placed a hand lovingly on his head. “Good boy. Such a good, _good_ boy.”

Beside him, Zen began to hear the soft stroking movements of Yoosungs hand. With every refrain of “good boy” from the speakers, his companion gave the weakest squeak of a moan. For the briefest moment, Zen wondered if he might be capable of causing such beautiful sounds.

Saeyoung began to moan as he took his master’s length slowly into his mouth and throat. In the foreground, MC could be seen with her fingers down between her legs, swirling them in slow, teasing circles. Zen wanted so badly to touch her, and yet his eyes were always drawn back to Jumin’s face as his head tipped back in pleasure. As he watched, he stroked himself in time with the bobbing of Seven’s head.

Though Yoosung and Zen had made an unspoken agreement to avoid any semblance of intimacy between them, it was not long before they caught one another’s eye. It was not strange; far from it. It was utterly electrifying. Yoosung’s violet eyes were dark and seemed to plead for some kind of relief. The wolf in Zen's body began to growl with primal desire, and soon Yoosung was in his lap, shuddering under his touch.

“Let’s not think,” Zen said, sensing his companion’s anxiety. “Let’s just _do._ ” Cautiously, he leaned forward to meet Yoosung’s lips. When they reciprocated, Zen’s entire body rejoiced.

With the dam now broken, a rush of deep, eager kisses confessed long-repressed desires. Zen had tried for years to deny the truth that men could awaken the beast in him just as well as women could. He’d known for some time that his attraction to Jumin Han was troublesome, but never had he imagined that a boy like Yoosung Kim could tease the wolf from him, too.

No, Yoosung had shown himself to be much more than a boy today, hadn’t he?

“Get up,” Zen whispered. “Take off your clothes and turn around.”

Yoosung obediently leapt to his feet and stripped until he was bare. Behind him, Zen kicked away his pants and threw his shirt recklessly over his head. When they were both completely nude, Zen gently took Yoosung’s hips and guided him carefully back down onto his lap—this time, facing away.

Zen buried his face into the crook of Yoosung’s neck and groaned, needy hands reaching around to stroke his prey’s softly twitching abdomen. His heart raced as he scraped his teeth against the supple skin of Yoosung’s shoulder. God, was this what Zen had wanted all this time?

“Good,” he whispered. “You’re such a good, _perfect_ little thing.” Zen knew very well that Yoosung normally despised the implication that he was anything but mature and manly, but the weak, girlish whines he issued now revealed a deeply rooted need to submit. It set Zen aflame in entirely new ways.

“Zen,” Yoosung whimpered, “I can be better. I can be so, _so_ good.”

 _Christ, this beautiful man!_ Zen directed Yoosung’s attention back to the screen and lightly petted his hair.

“You just enjoy the show, babe. I’ll take the wheel from here.” 

Yoosung relaxed completely into Zen’s arms. He’d always wanted a girlfriend, sure, but he’d never completely written off the idea of having a boyfriend. With the revelation that he and Zen were at least physically attracted to one another, Yoosung’s chest was filled with new hope. His lower half, on the other hand, was filled with pure animal lust.

Zen proved to be quite ambidextrous, one hand teasing across Yoosung’s chest while the other dragged its fingers over the stiff perfection between his legs. With wolfish teeth, Zen nipped at his flushed, pink neck.

“I love watching you boys play,” MC purred through the speakers. The words weren’t meant for them, but Yoosung and Zen shared a pleasured groan, nonetheless. When a deep, authoritative voice once again commanded “stop,” their attention returned to the screen.

“Very good, Saeyoung,” Jumin said, affectionately stroking Seven’s hair. “Lie down on the bed, now.” He watched carefully as his pet complied, taking long, slow strides around the bed to survey his little playground.   
  
Yoosung shivered, though not from chill. Instead, the feeling of Zen pressing against him, claiming his body with his mouth and hands, filled him with incredible heat. This terrible trembling was utterly involuntary, the result of a gifted lover’s oh-so-perfect touch. Slowly, steadily, Zen’s grip moved up and down, up and down, up and—  
  
“Yoosung,” Zen whispered, “call me Master.”  
  
“Mm—Mas— _Ah!_ ”

Yoosung’s body tensed all at once, hips twitching forward as he unexpectedly came. His moan was like a howl, and when he was finished, he collapsed with exhaustion.Zen chuckled darkly.

“Wow, I knew I was good, but that was… _Christ_ , that was incredible.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoosung squeaked, burying his face in his hands. Zen gently loosed the pins from Yoosung’s bangs and combed tenderly through the hair with his fingers. He placed a few small kisses against Yoosung’s temple and sighed.

“It’s all right. I’m not upset.”

He really wasn’t upset. He had hoped for a little more playtime, sure, but he hadn’t really expected sweet, virginal Yoosung to last too long. Truthfully, the only feeling Zen could identify was one of unusual pride and possessiveness.

Sometime during their intimate exchange, MC had begun a classic reverse cowgirl, riding Seven like a wild bull for Jumin’s lustful enjoyment. Zen wrapped an arm around Yoosung’s waist and leaned forward to depress the PC power button with his finger. As the monitor blinked out, Yoosung yelped.

“Wait! But we—“

“We know enough,” Zen said, falling back again with a smile. “When Seven said ‘Master,’ he really meant ‘ _Master._ ’ Jumin says ‘suck,’ they ask how hard.” Yoosung stood and plucked a handful of tissues from a box on the desk.   
  
“Yeah, I guess that _is_ what I wanted to know. Here,” he said, offering a few tissues to Zen. “For your hand.” Zen watched Yoosung dab carefully at his crotch for a few moments, then handed the tissues back. Yoosung watched wide-eyed as Zen drew his hand to his mouth and licked droplets of cum from its side.  


“Oh. Wow." 

“What? You think I’ve never tasted cum before?” Zen asked with a wicked grin. He took another lick and winked, and Yoosung’s face began to redden once more. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I just wanted to make you blush again.”

Yoosung’s heart thundered in his chest.   
  
“Zen, I know we said we weren’t going to think about it, but I'm thinking an awful lot right now.” Yoosung stared at the floor, hands nervously tucking hair behind his ears. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I… I like guys. And girls! Just, you know… _also_ guys.”

“Dude, you just came all over my hand. I think I gathered that much.”

“Well, yeah. But, I mean… do _you_ like guys?”

Zen inhaled deeply. When he’d first arrived, Zen had feared that the sight of Jumin’s (undoubtedly beautiful) naked body would unearth deeply repressed fantasies. To stifle his interest in men, Zen had become conspicuously vocal in his denial. Just two hours ago, he’d told Yoosung in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t (and absolutely _wouldn’t_ ) help him with anything sexual. Now, though, Zen found himself wanting little else.

“Well, yes, apparently,” he said with a hefty exhale. Yoosung quickly hid wet eyes with a raised forearm.

“Zen, I'm sorry. I’ve ruined everything,” he whispered through sudden tears. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, don’t cry.” Zen pulled Yoosung into a comforting hug. “I know I said some things before, but… fuck, Yoosung, I’ve been hiding a lot of things.”

“Things like this?” asked Yoosung, smearing tears with his arm.

“Exactly like this,” Zen said, resting his cheek against the top of Yoosung’s head. “Shit, I knew this day would be weird, but this isn’t at all what I expected to happen. Though maybe it’s what I secretly hoped would happen. I guess we learned something important either way, right?”   
  
Yoosung nodded silently, his fingers locking behind Zen’s back as if to claim him.   
  
“Zen, do you think we could… do this again sometime?”

“Of course we can. On one condition.”

“Hm?”

 Zen let his fingers trail lightly down Yoosung’s back and sides, ultimately bringing them to rest on a surprisingly firm ass. After the initial shock, Yoosung came to recognize the sensation of Zen’s stiff dick pressing against his stomach.

“We start right now and finish before Seven gets back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WILD RARE PAIR APPEARS! I couldn't help myself. It just happened.
> 
> See you in the next chapter! Sorry for making you all wait so long for this.


End file.
